Is this a Dream?
by GreySide58
Summary: One man with the abilitie to show alternate realities, sends Peter to one.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Own nothing except for Nate and Lesley**

**A/N: Sorry if Sylar's out of character, but remember this is an AU that Peter's in. **

The rain pelted them, soaking them to the bone. Neither one seemed to notice as they stared hard at each other. One had full intention to kill, the other only wanted to have some fun and maybe teach his opponent a little lesson.

"What did you do with her?" Peter snarled at the man known as Mark Dresden.

"Oh, she's alright, she'll be back soon I'm sure."

"Did you kill her?" Mark laughed.

"No, no, dear Peter. She's just seeing thins a little…. different. Just like you." Peter gave him a look, not sure what he was talking about, but sure it wasn't good. Before he could say anything a spark of lightening hit him.

"Peter. Pete, come on, wake up." he heard a voice saying. The voice was familiar and he knew he should be hating the voice, but there was concern in the tone. Slowly he opened his eyes, only to have them assaulted with harsh rain.

"Good, was afraid I'd have to call an ambulance or something." Peter looked in the direction of the voice and saw Sylar leaning over him. On instinct he bolted up and away from the man.

"Don't. Touch. Me." He said through clenched teeth and he looked hard at him. Sylar approached him and Peter backed away.

"Pete, what's wrong?"

"You have no right to call me Pete, I don't care if you're my brother." By this point they had backed up near the road and Sylar stopped approaching.

"Ok, I won't call you Pete. But, please come in, I won't touch you, I promise. It's cold though and raining. Please come in." there was a note of pleading as well as a note of concern in his voice and eyes. Peter wasn't quite sure what he was getting at. For a couple seconds he didn't answer, just looked at him and at the house behind him. Without a word he walked past Sylar and into the house. Sylar followed.

"Lesley's out shopping and Nate's at day care, so it's just you and I." Sylar told him as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed two beers out of the refrigerator. He walked back over to Peter who was standing in the living room, looking at pictures. Peter looked at the beer held out to him, but didn't take it. With a sigh Sylar placed it on a table.

"Want some dry clothes, I'm sure I could find something…."

"What are you doing, Sylar?" Peter asked harshly as he turned to look at him.

"Sylar? You haven't called me that since we were kids and dad gave me that watch."

"Since we were kids?" Peter gave him a confused look.

"Sit down, Pete, I wanna check, make sure you didn't hit your head too hard." He said softly and with concern.

"Don't touch my head." The confusion was gone from his voice and the harshness was back.

"Ok, I won't, but let me call Les, see if she can come home. You'll let her check you out, right?" Peter had no idea who Lesley was and wasn't sure he could trust Sylar long enough to not get killed.

"Just sit down though. I'll go get you something dry to wear, you're soaked." He left before Peter could say anything else. Why was Sylar being so nice? Was Mr. Bennett watching or something? Slowly, he sat down and waited until Sylar came back. He knew he had to be ready for anything though. Opening his hand he expected to see a ball of blue light, but he saw nothing, no light, no glow, just his empty hand. Looking at the beer on the table he attempted to move it with his mind, nothing. He was starting to panic, if he had no power, he had no defense. Taking a deep breath he stood up and walked to the kitchen. Taking a knife from the knife rack, he touched the metal to his skin. With another breath he pressed down and slowly little drops of crimson showed themselves on his pale skin. Ignoring the pain, he pulled up, making a cut on his arm. Being so entranced with what he was doing he didn't notice Sylar make his way down stairs nor did he notice him walk into the kitchen.

"Peter, what are you doing?!" he shouted, startling Peter enough to drop the knife. Eyes partly filled with anger, he looked up from his arm.

"What did you do to me?" he demanded.

"Me, I'm not the one cutting your arm. What's going on? I thought you were done with that."

"My powers are gone, that's what's going on and I'm thinking you're responsible."

"Powers? You have no powers, you never have, you never will, you just have to trust me, Pete." He said it as though he'd heard Peter talk of powers before, there was a sadness in his voice as if he wanted to say or do something, but couldn't. Peter didn't answer. He looked back at his arm, expecting to see healed flesh, but only saw a bleeding wound in need of repair.

"Peter, we can't keep doing this. Nathan's gone and there's nothing that can be done about it. I miss him too." Peter looked up.

"Nathan's gone? What do you mean, Nathan's gone?"

"I'm calling the hospital, you're getting yourself checked out. I think you really hit your head when you slipped out there." Sylar said after a minute reaching for the phone. Peter didn't stop him, didn't say anything, just watched as he called, as he talked to the person on the other line like he knew them. He took the clothes that Sylar had brought down and found the bathroom. With Sylar standing outside the closed door, saying he was worried to leave him completely alone in the bathroom, Peter carefully stripped off his wet clothes, careful to not disturb his cut too much. He put on the dry t-shirt and jeans, both of which fit him perfectly.

"Come on, I'm driving." Sylar said grabbing a set of keys. He grabbed two jackets and handed one to Peter. Peter gave him a wary look as he took it and stepped outside behind Sylar.

"Why did you do that back there?" Sylar asked as he drove toward the hospital, Peter's arm wrapped in a towel.

"Uh, do what?" he asked, looking from the window to him.

"Your arm, Pete. Why'd you cut? I thought you stopped that six months ago."

"I had to know." He said quietly before turning to look back out the window.

"Know what, that someone cared? That you're alive?" his tone was reaching angry.

"What? No. And you wouldn't understand." Peter was starting to wonder if this here with Sylar was real, if Sylar really did care for him.

"Help me to."

"You'd think I was nuts."

"You're not nuts." Sylar was gripping the steering wheel hard now.

"I know I'm not, but you'd think I was." Peter said as they pulled into the hospital. He was glad too, because the pressure he was putting on the cut was really hurting.

"Ah, the Petrelli brothers, was hoping I wouldn't see you again." A man with white hair and a white coat said as he approached them. He looked familiar to Peter, but he couldn't place the face.

"Same here, Dr. Linderman." Linderman? No, Peter was not going with anyone with the last name Linderman, not if he didn't want to die.

"Ya know, Sylar, we can just stitch this up on our own, I've done it enough times." Linderman laughed.

"You have a medical degree, son?" he asked slowly.

"Uh, nursing."

"It's been awhile since you've practiced though, Pete." Sylar told him. Peter looked at him.

"Stop calling me Pete." He said, trying hard to keep the harshness towards the man he'd learned to hate intact.

"Come on, let's get you in the back and see how bad that cut is." With a deep sigh and a bit of reluctance, Peter followed him to the back while Sylar stayed out front.

"So how have things been, Peter?" Linderman asked as he filled a needle.

"Uh, ok. What is that?" Linderman smiled.

"Just a simple local anesthesia to numb the pain while I sew you up." Peter only nodded.

"So, what was it this time?" he asked as he injected the needle.

"Hmmm?"

"The cut, why did you do it?" Peter had to think of an answer that wouldn't make him sound completely insane at the same time it sounded like he knew nothing of his own life. Was that what Mark did? He sent people to alternate realities? A reality where Linderman was alive and Sylar was nice, was it possible?

"Peter, you ok?" Linderman asked knocking him from his thoughts.

"Yeah, fine, just thinking. I cut myself because, I don't know." He didn't know, great answer. He'd heard it before though, from dying patients, they would just say they didn't know why, they didn't want to admit the real reason, they were sick of fighting a losing battle, because if he was there, they were losing.

"Ok. I'll let it go for now, but I don't want to see you again."

"You won't, I don't want to see you again." Linderman laughed, not catching the serious note to Peter's voice.

Soon his arm was stitched up and he was walking out the waiting room where Sylar sat.

"Gabriel, you can take him home now, just watch out." Peter sighed at the knowledge that they didn't care they were talking about him like he was invisible.

"Will do. Thanks for being able to take him right away."

"No problem."

"What happened to Nathan?" Peter asked as Sylar started the car. Sylar looked at him.

"You really don't remember?" Peter shook his head.

"Did they check your head in there?"

"Linderman asked, I said it was fine."

"One of these days Peter you're going to get yourself killed and I won't be there to bail you out."

"I don't need you, Sylar." Peter said looking out the window at the pouring rain. Sylar sighed.

"Still calling me Sylar huh, what happened to my real name?"

"Sorry, wasn't thinking." It was barely an apology really.

"Fine. So you ok over there?"

"Still wanting to know what happened to Nathan." Sylar swallowed.

"He was shot, a year and a half ago. He was accepting the seat in Senate and someone shot him."

"I still shoot him." Peter said to himself, quietly.

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Ok, just remember I'm here to listen if you need to talk." He said as he pulled into the drive.

"Looks like Lesley's home. She's gonna kill you ya know."

"Why?"

"For the arm."

"Oh. Was I a cutter before?"

"Pete, do you not remember anything?"  
"I do but I guess I blocked some things out." It was possible; he just wasn't sure how well Sylar would buy it.

"Huh, right. But, yeah, you cut, after Nathan's death. One day I came to your apartment. You didn't answer after I knocked several times. It was then that I found you in your bathroom, barely alive from loss of blood." He'd tried to kill himself. Was it a universal thing, either he was thought to be trying to attempt or he was attempting.

"I need time to think." He said.

"Room's upstairs. Don't be surprised if Lesley comes up to see how you're doin'." Sylar said as they entered the house. It wasn't long after he said this though that Lesley instantly came to the door.

"What happened, why's there blood on the floor and the knife?" her brown eyes were focused mostly on Peter.

"We can talk about it later, Peter's gonna go upstairs." Sylar told her in a tone that said she shouldn't argue.

"Ok, but I'll be up there, mister." Peter gave her a small smile before making his way upstairs. He found what he supposed was his room as it was very plain and simple. He sat down on the bed, his elbows on his knees as he looked out the window. What had he gotten into and how could he get out of it? Was killing himself a way or attempting to use Mark's power? His powers were gone though, he didn't heal, he couldn't move things, he was useless.

"I need you, Nathan." He said into the air as he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.

**To be continued(let me know what you think)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ok, second chapter's up. Just so you know, this story's mostly gonna revolve around Peter and Sylar, mostly 'cause I like the idea of Sylar and Peter being brothers. :) Anyways, enjoy and I want to thank those of you who commented and Story Alerted this story, it's greatly appreciated. **

"Uncle Pete." A little boy shouted running up to him as he walked down the stairs. He looked exactly like the boy Peter had met in the future

"Hey." He said looking at him.

"Daddy said you got hurt, are you ok? I'm sure Mommy will help, she's good at fixing booboos." Peter couldn't help but smile at the little boy.

"You know what, I think I'll be alright." He said kneeling on one knee so he was at eye level.

"Nate, go wash up for dinner." Sylar said coming up behind him. Peter looked up from his spot on the ground before standing up.

"How are you doing, Peter?" he asked once Nate had run off to wash his hands.

"Good, hungry."

"Good, 'cause there's a lasagna just coming out of the oven."

"Uncle Pete, will you tell me a story after dinner?" Nate asked as he rushed back from the bathroom.

"Uh, sure." Sylar smiled at the two.

"Alright, lets go, Champ, time for dinner." The three walked into the kitchen where Peter took the chance to notice that the knives were no longer out for the world to see. Dinner went smoothly. Peter stayed quiet for most of it, carefully watching the little family.

"Come on, Uncle Peter, story." Nate said pulling on Peter's arm after dinner was over.

"Better go, Peter. We'll take care of the table." Sylar told him.

"So what story do you want me to tell you?" Peter asked as they entered Nate's bedroom. The walls were filled with pictures of superheroes and trains.

"A boogeyman story, please, I promise I won't get scared."

"I don't know…."

"Please." Peter thought for a minute. The only boogeyman story he knew was the one he'd lived through.

"Fine." Peter thought for a minute before he started.

"There once was a girl…"

"Ceecee." Nate said with excitement.

"Uh, right, CeeCee, and she was special and two people knew that, the boogeyman and…."

"Super Peter." Peter gave him a look and assumed Nate had heard this story before.

"You want to tell the story?" he questioned jokingly. Nate shook his head and giggled. Dark hair fell over his eyes.

"Ok. So Super Peter and the Boogeyman knew that she was special. One day he had a dream that he was supposed to save her, because you see the Boogeyman had found her." Peter went on to tell how Super Peter had saved CeeCee from the Boogeyman. He finished the story as Sylar came into the room.

"What was the story 'bout tonight?" he asked with a smile. It was a smile Peter had never seen before, a warm, loving smile. Maybe he could trust him, just a little.

"Super Peter." Nate said with great enthusiasm.

"Super Peter huh?" Nate shook his head emphatically in response. Sylar eyed Peter with a look before turning back to his son.

"Well, champ, I'm sure Super Peter would agree that it's time for a bath, right?"

"But….."

"No buts, mom's waiting for you." With a sigh that made Peter have to stifle his laughter, Nate got up from his bed and walked out of the room with Sylar following. Peter too got up and left the room.

"Stop telling him stories like that, please." Sylar said stopping him in the hallway.

"Like what?"

"Super 'Peter'. He doesn't need to think you have 'powers'."

"Sy, I mean, Gabriel, Super Peter's a character. He named him tonight; I just went along with it. There's no problem with a kid liking superheroes."

"Oh, I have no problem with him liking superheroes like Superman and all that, but I don't want him thinking you have powers. He needs to know that you're normal."

"I'm his uncle though. Uncle's are supposed to be special." Peter said with a grin he'd used on Nathan in the past when he'd had the same conversation with him about telling his boys superhero stories.

"I know, but not like that."

"Fine, I won't tell him those stories or I'll change the character. How 'bout Super Gabe?"

"Peter…." Sylar shook his head and started laughing. Peter laughed too. It felt weird laughing with a man who had been trying to kill him for so long, but at the same time it felt good to laugh.

They walked to the living room. Two sofas were placed across from the other. Sylar settled into one as Peter sat down in the other. Once again Peter grew quiet and watched Sylar. The man was humming as he picked up a book from the end table. A pair of glasses was settled on the bridge of his nose. Every once and awhile Sylar would push them up, but continued to read. Peter watched carefully. He'd always loved watching people; they were just so fascinating. What was even more fascinating to him now though, was Sylar, so domestic, so caring, so…normal. It was something he was sure he'd never seriously experience. Yes he'd been to the future and met his newly found brother and seen how fatherly he was. At the same time though, it wasn't normal, because he'd made the man use his powers and Sylar had known that he wasn't from that time period. It was still anything but normal. This though, this was normal. There were no powers, Sylar wasn't a killer, everything was normal and Peter was now trying to figure out what he thought about that.

Sylar looked up from his book and noticed Peter looking at him with a curious look in his eye.

"Thinking about something?" he asked, setting his book aside.

"Ever wonder what life would be like if we weren't normal?" Peter asked slowly. Sylar looked at him directly as he took off his glasses.

"No, I haven't, Peter." Peter suddenly felt like he was talking to Nathan, telling him about his flying dreams.

"Not just once?" Peter challenged. Sylar looked at him before replacing his glasses and picking up his book. Leaning back in the couch it was obvious he didn't want to have this conversation anymore. The thing was, though, Peter was a determined man. He didn't know about the Peter of this reality, but he knew that he himself, wasn't easily deterred.

"You're telling me you're happy doing the same thing day in, day out? What if you could travel the world, do things thought impossible, if you had that chance, would you?" he questioned with a sort of smirk.

"Peter," Sylar started as he once again put down his book, he used his glasses almost like a pointer, "I'm perfectly happy. You should be too, you've got a nice life. You're 26, Pete, it's time to get your head out of the clouds, k?"

Peter looked at him. Some things never changed and it was obvious here that he was still the younger brother. Too many times he'd heard the "grow up" speech. He'd never understood the idea of tossing away your dreams, he still didn't get it. Dreams were what motivated people. It was the dreamers who made a difference. He knew though that it was pointless to argue. Sylar was being his brother, not like he could do anything anyways. With a sigh he nodded.

"Right, ok. No more dreams." He said as he picked up a book. He was ignoring the hard stare Sylar was giving him.

"I didn't mean that."

"Sylar, you and I are different, we always have been, I'm done fighting it, you win." Inside he chuckled and cringed at the same time. Never in his life had he expected to utter those words to the man currently sitting across from him.

"Pete." At this he outwardly cringed.

"Please, don't call me Pete, ok?" that right had still not been won.

"I thought we resolved that."

"We resolved nothing."

"Peter, what's going on?"

"Nothing, just leave it." Peter said, getting up. He headed for the door, but Sylar followed him.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk. Gonna try and stop me?" there was venom in his voice. Peter Petrelli without powers, was just Peter Petrelli. He wasn't a fighter, he was a pacifist. He helped people die and nothing else. Growing up Nathan had always been the one to be in a fight because of him, when Nathan wasn't around, Peter just avoided the bullies at all costs. He'd refused to learn to fight, because to him, fighting was the sure sign of a weakness. He learned though. Fighting was necessary to survive. He didn't learn it until after college, but he still learned it. Now, here he was, wanting so bad to hit Sylar, to show him he wasn't weak. The problem was, he didn't know how much of an impact he'd actually make or what Sylar would do.

"No, I won't stop you, just come back." It wasn't an order or a command, it was more like a request, a hope. It wasn't quite the response he'd expected. Looking at him one last time, Peter walked out the door. Sylar didn't once come after him as he started walking, he just let him go.

"It's so nice, isn't it?" Mark asked falling in step with Peter. Peter looked at him, slightly startled, but then he stopped. The anger he'd felt towards Sylar, instantly went towards the man that now stood in front of him.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"Oh, nothing. Don't you like your brother not trying to kill you?"

"He's not my brother."

"Records say differently."

"Get me the heck out of here, Mark."

"Peter, not yet, not when it's just getting fun." Peter was ready to ask him what he meant when suddenly Mark was gone, leaving him alone once again.

**Let me know what you thought. To be continued. **


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